by Steven Craig
IN the warm afternoon, the humidity carried the fresh smell of rain drying from the lawn, refreshing the trees, chasing for the moment her mind from her work.
She stirred the cup, and the tea revolved as the steam rose to her eyes. And she drifted.
Reading from the teas leaves that are fogged
There is the unfinished painting....
missing the final brush strokes that are the most telling
In time, other paintings are made,
ones that may never have been,
had that first one not failed.
Work in life is always what is in us all, and makes for us a place called home
Time has a way of showing each of us what life is all about, and where we can be more than we ever were when we thought we had it all.
Such is desire
that cruel ruler of tomorrows.
For it drives a selfishness that runs so wildly that you would ask
Do you cut off the left hand so that the right hand can hold everything?
In every mind, the image of truth is a cause for which there is no respect. Power holds all, and there is less than a thought for the ones underfoot. Rape is both in a physical and emotional sense destructive, and ever a cause to terminate. So to be removed from that extreme, when you can use words to pose the image before the aware, you create a canvass upon which there can be communication that exceeds just the words. There can never be enough understanding or at the other end of the extremes, forgiveness.
Still, she thought of his words as they once walked the evenings, in that march having passed the good things by... to do the things that needed to be done... in the sum, there has not been a point where it was seen to matter.
Not his lot in life. He will be on the wing again soon... flying west.... ever westward.
There is something about having found a niche where people know they can count on you.... you can not leave it, for many others rely on you being there.
When in time, my heart fails and my mind crawls to a stop, there will be at least that smile of success across my lips as I fade.
Dreams are not the stuff of people, but are the stuff people make happen
His dreams have come true... for others....
People are alive, and have families because a few men were willing to give it all up for them
even though in time
in time, it will not matter.
But for now, it surely does to him.
When he sees children play, there is surely a caring and a happy feeling that makes his life stand still for a moment, and know that here, but for that moment, could have been his children.
But then, in that case, some other child would likely not been born,
for some other would have had to make the sacrifice, and lost his chance at a family
Fate is such, that if you do not ask, it will not tell, and you will not need to feel the emptiness.
You will just go on, and do what must be done...
for there is no other way
When you are the one that is there... it is you that must do it, and no one else.
October... is always a time of new beginnings
Hillsides in October, even with frost, hold promise
When the vapors trail into the still morning air,
you can catch a glimpse of that last day of summer
Once... on a road trip across Indiana..
She passed a field that went for miles along the road.
The corn had been harvested and cut.
In the low stubble, for as far as the eye could see, were round spider webs...
billions of them...
caught in the dew
sparkling in the sun
never to be seen again.
You have very little life actually... a short time to live, to love, to feel that you are there to know and learn and experience.
Every experience in life carries its lesson
In time, all that has happened will bear on you to make some great decision
If in passing, you neglect something, then later, you will be at a loss.
Life is made of rules.
though in choosing almost always forces something to be neglected
but not laws.
You are a sum of your experiences
without them, you are nothing
Even the worst experience is better than none at all.
Even in death, bones remain. Pick them carefully, for your memories will be there and at a later time, you may wonder... why it was those particular bones ... if you do not remember clearly now.
Reality has little to do with any of it... it is up to us to place it there, to notice it, and to keep what it is for our lives to know.
That is a place where struggle is the rule, and there is offered never a day of calm with even seas.
In our minds, there is a sound
at times, it is hushed, at others, there is a roar that awakens all
That sound is time
The awaken are the forces that makes it so
In days, in nights, in storms and personal delights, there is truth only on the tongue that loves such.
To hold is to know ones past, to advance is to explore beyond that past
She is thinking.
Knowledge does that to people that have the awareness.
The egg is always small.
You are never just a paint splatter... y
our life is yours... all you will ever have.
Use it, use it well,
and use it up before you die.
She is learning that there is more to life now than what it all seemed just the day before.